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Instead of releasing her Jake slid his fingers down to the bones of her wrists and encircled them like a pair of gentle handcuffs.
Jasmine tested his hold, but all that did was take him with her to the door frame, which was just an inch or so behind her. She pressed her back against it for stability—because right then her legs weren’t doing such a great job of holding her upright. He was now so close she could see the individual pinpricks of stubble along his jaw and around his nose and mouth. She could feel their breath intermingling. His muscle-packed thighs were within a hair’s breadth of hers, his booted feet toe to toe with her bare ones.
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He was sick to the back teeth with teenaged girls with crushes. Jasmine had started it with her outrageous little stunt seven years ago. He’d had the last word on that. But this was a new era and Emma Madden wasn’t the least put off by his efforts to shake her off. He’d tried being patient. He’d tried being polite. What was he supposed to do? The fifteen-year-old was like a leech, clinging on for all she was worth. He was being stalked. By a teenager! Sending him presents at work. Turning up at his favourite haunts, at the gym, at a business lunch, which was damned embarrassing. He’d had his work cut out trying to get his client to believe he wasn’t doing a teenager. He might be a playboy but he had some standards and keeping away from underage girls was one of them.
Jake turned his phone to silent and tossed it next to his bag on the bed. He walked over to the window to look at the fields surrounding the country estate. Autumn was one of his favourite times at Ravensdene. The leaves on the deciduous trees in the garden were in their final stages of turning and the air was sharp and fresh with the promise of winter around the corner. As soon as his guests arrived he would light the fire in the sitting room, put on some music, pour the champagne, party on and post heaps of photos on social media so Emma Madden got the message.
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